Civil War
by Donna Vito Frutti
Summary: It is years after the death of Voldemort. Years after the war heroes were decorated. Is the world a better place now? Are all enemies defeated? More importantly, could all enemies be defeated just as easily as Voldemort was? Pain, angst and anger, and in the midst of it all, passion, hurt and heartbreak, concealed from the world. When loyalties change, who remains by your side?
1. Chapter 1

The fire blazed red around them. An eery, unearthly, terrifying red.

"Take them and go!" The woman yelled as people scrambled about looking for exits.

"What about you..." The man hesitated.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," she said. Before he could object, she brandished her wand creating a ward between them.

There was a sudden shift in the air behind her.

"Go!" She yelled one last time and turned around, just in time to see a figure step out from thin air a few feet away from her.

He lifted his wand..

"Don't do this!" She pleaded. "Stop."

"You shouldn't have come here tonight."

"Please, just reconsider. They're innocents. You're better than this."

"Too late," he said and cast a spell. She tried to deflect it but it was too late. It hit the invisible ward and made a noise like a gong being struck.

A volley of spells followed it and this time, Hermione managed to block them with an advanced shield charm.

The fight would not be over soon. She conjured roped around him, but they fell away to the floor and then crawled fast towards her. And as she vanquished them, Harry pointed his wand at the ground near her feet.

Before she knew what was happening, there was a rumble under the ground. And then tremors followed. She looked around in confusion. The man was unaffected.

"You will have to remove the ward to stop it," he said. And then the ground under the woman's feet trembled as its surface cracked open. Pebbles and broken cement rattled against each other.

Suddenly, thick brown tendrils shot out of the cracks and wrapped themselves around her ankles.

She tried to move but every time she took a step, the tendrils sucked her deeper into the ground, until she was stuck and couldn't move anymore. Even then, she watched as some of them wrapped around her arms as well, limiting their movement.

Her opponent walked around her and she heard him cast a series of complicated spells, muttering under his breath.

Hermione stopped struggling and looked around her. There was fire behind them. In front of them. Only the wards and the enchantments of the Ministry kept it away from them.

When he finished, he came back to her and the ground stopped trembling. She tried to send a quick spell at him but he waved his wand and it was deflected.

"Don't. And I would take cover if I were you," he said and then raised his wand high.

Cracks appeared on the ward as though it were made of glass, travelling all the way up to the ceiling. And then it split apart and shattered, breaking into a million solid pieces that then rained down. Straining against her bonds, the woman threw up the shield charm around her just in time to protect herself from the falling shards.

The tendrils crawled back into ground and only the cracks in the ground and the shards remained. There was a sound of crunching on the glass pieces and she looked up from her protection. The man was stepping forward, cautiously, his boots pressing down on the shards.

"No!" She had leapt to her feet, facing him.

Something dark and dangerous glowed in his eyes, then. A glint, the hint of a quiet danger. She could hear the sound of fire, a different kind, in the distance.

"Stand aside," he said.

"No,"

"Last warning. Stand aside _now_."

"Make me." The man cast a spell but she reflected it back on to him with a wave of her wand. He flew a distance away, the wand still clutched in his hand.

From where he lay, he conjured ropes out of the end of his wand. The woman waved her wand and the ropes were transformed into a flock of black ravens and flew towards the man and attacked him.

"Enough!" he yelled and a blast of energy projected outward, melting the birds. The force of it almost threw her backwards.

The man rose, fury written on his face. His glasses askew.

"When will you stop?"

She looked at him, her eyes defiant. "I don't think I ever will."

"So you've chosen your side, then," he said. "You chose wrong."

"You can put a stop to this. Whatever happened to love?" she said. "What happened to your greatest strength?"

"This is about love!" His eyes gleamed. "I loved and I lost. I lost my family. And I lost my best friend."

"So did I," The woman screamed. "And what about me?"

He smirked. "You're alive."

"Is that what it takes, Harry? Do I have to die to get your attention? To make you see?"

She relaxed her hold on the wand and it dropped to the ground. He watched as it clattered and came to a halt, but said nothing.

Hermione stared back at him. "Do it."

After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

"Very well." Harry fingered his wand, and looked up at her. "Very well..."

And she knew. Knew what would come before it did and closed her eyes. Not because she was afraid but because she knew it intimately.

It had haunted her nights for too long. A manor with its elaborate decorations and an intricately designed rug. She could remember the feel of her cheek against it as she writhed in pain. The sensation of a thousand hot knives and needles as her body contorted again and again in excruciating pain.

Harry raised his wand again and then muttered the dreaded word: _Crucio._

This was it. It was happening. She anticipated pain, death and darkness, unbearable and endless, racking her body once more.

But it never came.

Something brushed past her and she opened her eyes. The statue of the wizard had stepped in front of her. It had taken the full brunt of the curse. The metal body hissed as its surface melted from the power of the curse, and then was twisted and deformed. But then suddenly, it rushed at Harry.

It threw itself at him and tackled him to the ground. Harry's wand was still on him and he struggled to get it under his control.

All of a sudden, the arms of the statue moved in their sockets, flexed and pinned his to the ground. In the process, the wand flew off him. He struggled against the statue but to no avail.

"Stupefy," a voice said and Harry was still. And then a pair of hands lifted Hermione up to her feet.

"Come on," the man it belonged to said. "Time to go."

"Malfoy..."

"Shh. No time to chat."

He half dragged Hermione to the only fireplace left that was still lit with green flames.

"It will blow up in few minutes, before Harry wakes up."

* * *

The world revolved around her as she leaned against him. Moments later, they landed in the manor and Hermione would have reeled over if Draco hadn't caught her.

"Easy."

The resistance was gathered around the table and were facing her. She placed her hands on the table to collect herself. And then rounded on Draco.

"You went off script," she hissed at him. Something twitched in Draco's jaw but he said nothing. "My orders were clear: round up everyone else and leave."

There was a pause before he replied. "We swore to protect everyone, Granger. And that includes you as well."

"That doesn't mean putting yourself in harm's way. I will have not have anyone risk their lives for me. We can't endanger lives for some foolish heroism."

"It isn't really foolish if we need you to keep us alive, is it?" Draco said, in barely contained anger.

"There are protocols in place. Contingencies."Before anyone could object, she continued, "Sooner or later, we will have to make some hard choices. When that time comes, I hope we will all remember why we are here and what we signed up for."

The crowd around her looked at one another but were silent.

"Now excuse me while I tend to myself. Please get some rest. We may have some leg work tomorrow."

* * *

Hermione turned on the tap and adjusted the temperature to scalding hot as she showered. She scrubbed her body with soap and watched as the soot and the grime mixed with water, formed rivulets down her body and were washed away. Her muscles were aching. There were bruises on her arms and her ankles- she was sure one of her ankles were going to need looking into. The happenings of the day had numbed her so much that she hadn't cared to do it sooner.

She reached for her wand and examined it now. The trick Harry had done to the ground had made her lose her balance and twist her ankle. Harry hadn't seemed to care or notice. He was consumed by anger and thoughts of revenge. Far too gone, perhaps.

If she closed her eyes again, just for a little while, she would see his gleaming eyes again, how they looked down at her and how his mouth formed the words that she had never imagined would come from him. Him, of all people.

It was an utterance reserved for the likes of enemies they had defeated, many, many years ago. Together, standing side by side. Words that fell easily from the lips of murderers, killers. Of Death Eaters. Of Voldemort. Of Bellatrix.

And now she had heard it from Harry.

How did it come to this? How did the lines get blurred?

It seemed that things were going to get much, much worse before they got better. She scrubbed herself even harder as though trying to take the skin off as bathed in the scalding water, wishing to melt in it right there and have all her thoughts washed away with it.

* * *

Wrapping herself tightly in her bathrobe she stepped out and turned to find Malfoy in the room, waiting. He looked up as she came to stand in front of the mirror.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine."

She fetched a towel and proceeded to dry her hair with it.

"Is your ankle okay?"

"I fixed it." Hermione focused on her hair and ran her fingers through it. "What about you? Any scratches on you?"

"No."

"Good," she said and before she could say anything else, Malfoy came to stand by her side. He looked at his reflection as he smoothed his robe.

"We were lucky nobody was hurt," she said.

"Yes. Next time, we may not be so lucky."

"All the more reason to train harder."

Draco nodded. Hermione patted her hair in place. The physical act of it felt freeing, in a way that the ease of magic would not have. It gave her a sense of being grounded and helped her see, think.

Unlike the case with many wizards, magic for her was a tool and a skill, not a lifestyle.

When she was little, she would help her mother and father with their hobbies. It was both a pastime and a venue for learning, something her parents always valued. Her mother loved pottery and would sometimes leave Hermione to her own devices as she worked. She loved the feel of clay on her hands and moulding them into an image that she liked. Gardening was what her father loved best. He would watch as she copied him and would cheer her on with silly words of encouragement until she laughed. The feel of the earth and its scent as she pruned and weeded in the garden were heavenly. And when she worked with her hands with her parents, it was like they had all the time in the world. No hurry. No dark wizards to vanquish and certainly no friends to stand up to- what was it that Dumbledore said in her first year, something about needing courage for both?

There were certain things that magic just couldn't do.

"I asked Mindy to serve dinner in the other room. Everyone else has eaten."

"Thanks, Malfoy, but I don't think I can eat."

"You sure?"

Hermione nodded. Draco was looking in the mirror, too as though assessing his dressing style. He looked unscratched. Unscathed. A lot less than what she felt inside her own head.

As if on cue, her head hurt and she pressed fingers to her temple.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"The stress of the day catching up. Nothing important."

"Granger..."

"It's fine." She turned away to stand by the window which, she noticed, was now slightly open. No doubt Draco or an elf did that to let her breathe in fresh air. A gentle breeze fanned her face and hair. She closed her eyes willing it to soothe her.

There would be no end to the constant worry and pain until the war was over. Until one of them, either Harry or her, was defeated. Today, she had learnt that defeating one of them could also mean a certain death.

"Who would have thought that it would come to this?" Hermione said, all of a sudden. And then continued, unthinking. "There was a time when I would have thought you were the enemy."

Draco ignored how the second part of her statement would have sounded to anyone who didn't know her well enough.

"Funny how that turned out, eh?" he said quietly.

"Yes. Funny. Deathly hilarious." Hermione laughed, but it was a harsh laugh, mirthless and cruel. "Oh, what a mess!"

"Granger," Draco said, "You did a splendid job today. You do a splendid job on most days. The Resistance wouldn't have survived without your help. And it certainly wouldn't still exist without your leadership."

"My leadership," she repeated the words as though they were alien to her. "And what does a good leader do if she knows that she has to kill someone she loves?"

Draco didn't answer. She turned to him. "For once, I would love it if someone told me what to do."

"Granger-"

"Tell me, Malfoy, what do I do now?" Hermione didn't wait for an answer. She turned back to the window.

There was a heavy silence in the room. As though either was afraid to break it. And then, after several moments, Draco laughed softly.

"Funny you should ask that, Granger. You organised the whole fight against Potter, you won, at least temporarily, you incapacitated him at least for a while, and now is when you doubt yourself?"

Hermione didn't answer. Draco looked up sharply.

"Granger?"

She was eerily still. Draco could feel a growing dread inside him as he closed the distance between them and reached her. Placing an a arm on her shoulders, he gently forced her to turn towards himself. She did not resist. Her head was bowed and her hair cascaded down. He couldn't see her face.

"Hermione," he said, softly. And, at last, at the sound of her name, she broke down.

And Draco held her, trying desperately to calm her, but failing, and absorbing every tremor he felt in her body as she let out heart-rending, gut-wrenching sobs. She didn't resist him. And a Hermione who had no fight left in her scared him more than anything in the world.

The night was quiet and dark outside, dreary and indifferent, as two brave young souls sought solace in each other and clung to each other, alone in the world, and just for the moment, done being brave.

Because there were times when you just didn't want to be brave anymore. When the facade drops, the resolve melts and you have to deal with what you really feel. Sometimes, just sometimes, you didn't get to be strong, if you didn't break even a little from time to time.

Draco stroked her hair and whispered soothing words in her ear as she calmed. She looked up, her face stained with her tears. Draco reached out to wipe a tear from her face. And then leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek and another on her lips. Hermione placed her hand on his chest, not quite pushing him away. She could feel his heartbeat. She moved it so that her arm was around her neck and then pulled him down to her lips.

* * *

Sunlight streaked in through the window and fell on Hermione. It felt warm, cosy and intimate as she sat cross-legged on the bed, basking in it. She sipped from a cup of coffee and looked to her side. Draco lay next to her, fast asleep, his head turned away from her. They were naked.

She placed the cup on a side table and reached for the blanket. She covered them both with it and proceeded to watch him. He had strong arms but they were always gentle on her. She leaned over to thread through his blonde hair. It was soft and warm to her touch like always. She recalled the feel of his hair on her belly with satisfaction. On an impulse, she pressed her lips to his forehead. Draco stirred awake.

He propped himself on his hands and spotted her cup of coffee.

"Mindy said she will bring you a cup when you're up."

"Alright."

He yawned and turned to her, looking into her eyes. His were grey, unfathomable depths that she could always drown herself in.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, cupping her face.

She grinned at him. "Much better, actually."

"Good," he said and leaned in to plant a kiss on her lips. Laughing, Hermione pushed him away but Draco pulled her with him and fell back on to the bed. He straddled her and pinned her arms above his head, looking at her in contentment.

He relaxed his hold as Hermione lay against him and wrapped his arms around her. If only they could lie like this forever.

She looked up at him. He stroked her lips and her chin with his thumb where he had kissed her last night. She closed her eyes leaning into the touch.

"We should stop meeting like this," she said after a while.

He sighed. "So you keep telling me." He brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

She caught it in her hand and shook her head. They locked gaze for a moment.

"Alright, " he said as he got out of bed. When he showered and dressed, Hermione already had a stack of papers around her and was sitting by her desk.

"Malfoy," she said, all business-like. "We should call a meeting in two hours."

Draco nodded. "I'll ask Mindy to see to it." And then added, with a small smile on his lips, "Granger."

"Good," Hermione said and with one last look at the retreating figure, returned to her work. Draco closed the door gently behind him and proceeded to his own room.


	2. Chapter 2

How did it come to be this way between them?

She liked to think that it was when things first started to fall apart as a way of seeking comfort in a moment of passion and weakness. But the truth was, it was much, much earlier.

The Wizarding War of 1998 had changed all of them, some for the better and some for the worse, but nobody had escaped unscathed. They simply bore their scars differently. People were celebrating with abandon everywhere but not all were at ease yet. There were still dark wizards on the loose, many of whom had fled after Voldemort's death and defeat. They caused the occasional trouble, lashing out like a cornered beast that knew its days were numbered. Their imminent capture, or death as it happened sometimes, made them even more dangerous than usual. Many who were captured gave their friends away in the hopes of a lighter sentence.

In the midst of all the celebration and confusion, Hogwarts rose, like a beacon of hope and a symbol of victory. A war memorial was erected to commemorate all who fought Voldemort and his army. The school itself was rebuilt over many months. There were restorations here, some new additions here and under the watchful eyes of the ever-capable Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, the school opened its doors to students once more.

It was quite a pleasant surprise when she received a letter calling her back to repeat her seventh year at Hogwarts. Except, it would be called the Eighth Year to differentiate between the repeat Seventh Year and the actual one. Harry and Ron received letters, too. But she already knew what their decision was going to be. They promised to see her off at the station, at least.

There were only a few students who returned for their repeat year. A handful of Slytherins were among them, including Draco. There was an uneasy truce between the Slytherins and the non-Slytherins as they lived together in a separate part of the castle.

She soon learnt that the syllabus for Eighth Years was structured differently by Professor McGonagall. There were constant field assignments and reports, often in groups of 2 or 3. And then the Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt had chosen her specially for a confidential task involving the Ministry and given her assignments of his own, with the permission of the Headmistress.

The nature of her special assignment with the Ministry soon involved consulting with Draco Malfoy. Reluctantly, resentfully, they began working together- They didn't have to like each other to get an assignment finished.

But as they braved many storms together, they grew to trust and respect each other. In fact, all Eighth Years began getting along phenomenally well, save for Pansy who loved to cause trouble. Hermione smiled at the thought.

The Malfoys' trial happened on and off during the Eighth Year. And she, along with Harry, and even a reluctant Ron testified on their behalf. She even appealed to the Minister in the capacity of the trust he had in her abilities. It worked. Although the trial was far from over, they would get off lightly.

The Eighth Year had brought a different side to them both. And by the time they departed from Hogwarts, they had developed a strong bond.

She rubbed her cheek where he had planted a kiss as a sign of gratitude in the train on their way back home.

She had already gotten over Ron by then. They had broken up just before she returned to Hogwarts and had simply never gotten back together.

And after she joined the Ministry, their paths crossed many times. Her work at the Ministry and her various positions, including those of Magical Law Enforcement Trainee, Auror Audit Supervisor and Chief Consultant For Magical Reformation gave her reasons and opportunities to call upon him and to be entertained at the Manor. Although she knew the senior Malfoys wouldn't completely let go of their earlier prejudices, just as Draco wouldn't, she also knew they were wise enough to see the potential of having a War Hero as an ally.

It seemed only natural that they would meet over drinks in the after hours. Or pore over reports and charts in the study of the Malfoy Manor. Or, on one such occasion, lean in a little too close, their hands touching and moments later, even their lips.

And then came the factions and The Resistance and while everyone scrambled around, Draco remained by her side. And she chose to rally around the Resistance herself. When it started to become a little too much, she sought him for solace.

They became each other's comfort. And, perhaps, along the way, something much more.


End file.
